Punching in a Dream
by rkolove
Summary: Sometimes we hear things we don't want to. And other times we hear exactly what we want. D/E/S WARNING: SLASH/INCEST & HET. RATED M FOR A REASON!
1. Chapter 1

So I'm trying my hand at something new. Despite the fact I'm getting hitched in less than 2 weeks, I have spent the last month or so over-indulging in The Vampire Diaries. Unfortunately, a certain online streaming site only had up to the end of the season 3 and even though I watched the s3 finale yesterday I'm already having withdrawal symptoms.

Anyway, this idea has been buzzing around my mind for a while so I thought I'd see where it goes. If you haven't read any of my stories before, I love first person and complete character anonymity (for a while anyway). Having read a fair bit of TVD fanfiction recently, I am slightly daunted by the prospect of delving into another fandom, but I hope you like what I've done and what I have planned.

WARNINGS: Smut (het & slash), Implied incest

DISCLAIMER: I don't own anyone from The Vampire Diaries.

Stick with me. It might be fun.

* * *

**Chapter 1**

Bourbon sloshes against the side of the bottle as I throw it from one hand to the other, showing off to no-one other than myself. Unscrewing the cap with my thumb, I select a glass and pour. I'm not sure why I'm bothering – it's not like there is anyone here to raise their eyebrows or offer scolding remarks. But I do it anyway.

I fall back against the sofa cushions, twisting so I lay across its entire expanse. I take a swig from the glass and then rest it on my stomach, idly tapping my fingers against the rim.

I contemplate bed.

I contemplate another drink.

I contemplate making a phone call I might regret.

I contemplate leaving town.

All of them perfectly sound ideas after one too many. Only one doesn't lead to conflict later. A deep seated feeling of regret, guilt, anguish, whatever you want to call it, that I won't feel until a moment of quiet amongst the madness when it'll choose to rear it's ugly head and make me wish that I never did whatever I did.

I take another swig and close my eyes.

There's a murmur. A low chuckle. My stomach flips, a smile crossing my lips. I can see a shadow in my mind, that look, the roll of eyes, the lip between the teeth.

A door slams.

My eyes flick open. Another throaty laugh. A sigh. A giggle. I struggle to sit upright, my eyes searching the gloom behind me. Floorboards creak and I cast my gaze upwards, feeling my mouth curl into an unforgiving scowl.

How quickly can a pleasant dream spiral into a nightmare?

Words drift across three floors, as I try and fail to blot out any sound other than the crackling embers in the fire place. Whatever it is, I don't want any part of it. My mind is twisted and rotten enough without eavesdropping. But it's hard to resist.

"_Mmm... Fuck..."_

"_Yes... There..."_

I can almost picture it. What am I saying, I _can _picture it. Quite easily in fact. I can see her lying on her back, hair fanned out on the sheets, legs draped over the edge of the bed, her toes curling as he works his way down her body. I can see her fingers entangled in his hair, her back arching as he tugs down the straps of her bra, his mouth sucking at exposed flesh, tugging expletives from the back of her throat.

Whimpers float across the air. Snippets of begging. His hands will be on her thighs, pushing her legs apart as he slides to the floor, pressing open mouthed kisses to her pelvic bone before he breathes in her scent.

A scent that I can smell, even taste, from here. I try to shake the image of him drinking from her from my mind, but it digs in deep, as her breathless words continue.

"_Shiit... No... Don't... Stop..."_

Bed springs creak. He's crawling back up over her, moving hair from her face, kissing her, his tongue pushing past her lips, making her taste herself. His hiss echoes around my mind, as she sucks on his bottom lip. I can see them rolling over at speed and it only slows when she lowers her mouth to his chest.

I remember that mouth, the way her lips felt on _my_ chest, how her hand would slide up to cup _my_ face, her fingers grazing _my_ lips, giggling and then whimpering as I captured one between my teeth and teased the tip with my tongue. I remember how her hair felt on my skin as she sunk lower, her hands slowly un-doing my pants, pushing them down until they could easily grasp my length and start to pump at a painfully slow speed. Her mouth would be at my stomach, her tongue etching intricate patterns across my skin, as with one hand I would frantically push her hair out of her face so I could see her face, her mouth, her eyes as she reached her goal.

His groan brings me back from the past with a jolt. Suddenly all I can see is her mouth wrapped around his dick as his hands grasp her hair, pushing her head back and forth as her cheeks hollow.

Not that I blame him. Or her for that matter.

I just wish...

I drain my glass.

Actions speak louder than words.

"_Fuck"_

I unfasten my belt, hear the buttons of my jeans pop open and smell my own sex as my hand curls around my cock.

Her cries spur me on. His grunts make my stomach twist in knots. I can see her dig her nails into his chest, his hands groping her ass as she slowly rotates her hips. I can see his sweat-slicked face, as she leans down to kiss him. His hand slips between her legs and her eyes squeeze shut, her mouth sliding from his.

"_So close"_

"_I'm..."_

"_Cum..."_

My own seed spills over my hand and then I freeze.

"_Did you..."_

"_Downstairs..."_

I fumble to do up my pants, frantically wiping the evidence from my hand at the same time.

Too late. I glance over the back of the sofa. She leans against the wall, arms folded, eyebrow cocked. I can smell him on her inner thigh, on the white shirt that barely covers her modesty. I fight to keep my eyes on her face, rather than on the dark circles where her breasts sit and the shadow at the apex of her legs.

I swallow hard, my mind struggling to find a reasonable explanation.

Her glance moves briefly from my face to my crotch and her lips twitch.

"Enjoy the show, brother?"

His arms slide around her waist, his chin resting on her shoulder as he takes in the scene.

I frown, getting to my feet.

"No need to be coy," he murmurs as I brush past him. His fingers curl around my wrist and I glance back. His free hand snakes up to grasp her breast. I pull myself free and climb the stairs, trying and failing to ignore her gasp as he pushes her against the wall.


	2. Chapter 2

I was debating to leave this as a one shot, but then I thought (after reading copious amounts of D/E/S) that maybe it would be fun to continue down this path. I'm not sure how long it will be, but I think there are a few more chapters left in this before I run out of ideas. So enjoy it while it lasts.

WARNING: Het, hints of slash/incest, explicit descriptions of the best kind.

DISCLAIMER: I own nada, except my own twisted thoughts.

A/N: I still haven't named names, but hopefully it's pretty clear who's who.

* * *

**Chapter 2**

_Every day I see you looking in_  
_I'll be the smoothest thing to touch your skin  
You're longing to be loved but you're alone  
__And your longing makes you shiver to the bone_  
Emiliana Torrini, _Gun_

I roll onto my side and smile as I feel her hand caress my cheek. Her lips brush against mine, once, twice. It's all it takes for me to roll her over onto her back. Brushing hair from her eyes, I let my own eyes drift south. White sheets are firmly wrapped around us, keeping her from pushing me away, helping me settle between her legs and feel sticky wetness on her inner thighs.

Her hand entangles itself in my hair as she pulls me down to capture her mouth – this time with an added hunger and desperation. I can feel her body arching against mine, her legs spreading further to accommodate me, one slowly rising to curl around my waist as her hips slowly rotate. I pull away from her mouth and she moans softly in protest. I press a finger to her lips, my eyes fluttering shut as her tongue brushes against the tip. My mouth latches on to her neck instead, teasing bites enticing hisses from the back of her throat.

My cock rubs against her entrance and her body rises in response. Her arms encircle my neck, her hands digging into my shoulders, pushing me away from her neck towards her breasts which rise up willingly to my mouth. I flick my tongue over one nipple, smirking as her fingers entwine themselves in my hair.

"More..."

I am more than happy to oblige. Open-mouth kisses to her stomach produces noises that go straight to my groin. Her neediness makes my mouth water as she instinctively raises her legs over my shoulders and I almost pass out as I inhale her scent. Her taste is even more intoxicating and I can't help myself – pushing one, two fingers deep inside her, my tongue moving frantically between her wet folds and the knot of tension that draws whimpers from the back of her throat.

An echoing howl brings me to my senses.

I open one eye. My bed is empty. There is no her. There is only me. And my throbbing cock. And an all too familiar stickiness.

Another dream. Another memory. I don't need to fall back into slumber to remember the ending. I can remember the feeling of her tongue lapping her own juices from my lips and chin as she rolled me over onto my back and slid down my length. I remember watching in rapture as she rotated her hips, her breasts half-hidden by her hair before she swept it over her shoulders. I can remember the trickle of sweat making its way down the side of her face as her eyes fluttered shut and she collapsed forward.

But it's never just a dream. The whimpering drifts down the stairs to my half-open door. As if last night wasn't enough. As if all the other nights weren't enough. What started out as a game, a sick game at that, has now escalated into a game of mercy. Except I doubt that either of them are capable of such a thing. Mercy, that is. Payback, revenge, whatever it is, it'll never get old.

I've spent a life time torturing those closest to me. And now it seems it's time to get a taste of my own medicine. But for the first time in a long time, the incessant torment involves another, all too willing participant. She pulled us both in as her predecessor did all those years ago. She was sweet, innocent and neither of us could resist. And sure, there were times that I would lie and listen to them. But it was different then. He was different. I remember the whispers, the reassurances, the coy looks they used to give each other.

And then something changed. The deliberate kisses, with eyes boring into my own. The way he would pull her against him and kiss her neck, her mouth forming the perfect "O" as she held my gaze. Their previously private escapades somehow couldn't be contained. I lost count of how many times I would walk into the lounge, kitchen or any other room and encounter them in a state of indecency. I used to play it off with a smirk, a roll of the eyes, a lewd comment if I felt inclined. And at least she had the decency to blush. He on the other hand, seemed quite content with involving me in whatever game they were playing.

And then something else changed. He disappeared. And I was suddenly left to pick up the pieces. Sweet and innocent came back into fashion. I cradled her in my arms. I told her everything would be okay, all the while wondering if this was my chance. Never once did it cross my mind that it was all still a game.

I took her to my bed for nights on end, I tried to mend what I thought was a broken heart. I tried to push him from her mind as I sunk into her night after night. I tried and succeeded to entice my name from her lips. Finally, she was all mine. I got greedy. In more ways than one.

Then one morning he reappeared. Not that I noticed at first. I was too caught up in something else. Only when she moaned his name instead of mine did I stop. Pushing the sheets away I looked up at her and realised her eyes were looking elsewhere. I turned, her legs still over my shoulders and saw him standing in the door way.

"Carry on," he smirked before turning away.

I glanced back at her. Her mouth twisted into a smile.

"You heard him," she murmured, running her hand through my hair.

I remember feeling compelled to do as she said, as they both said.

* * *

I make my way downstairs, listening out for anything that might make me turn back and remain behind closed doors for ever and eternity.

She looks up at me from the table as I enter the kitchen. I nod in greeting and she responds with a small smile.

"Sorry about last night." But something about her eyes tells me she isn't sorry at all.

"It's fine." It's not.

"He... we got carried away."

"It's fine," I repeat.

"We forget."

"It's fine," I growl.

She shrugs.

I open the fridge, stare at its contents and then close it abruptly.

"Morning, brother." He leans over and kisses her cheek, his eyes never moving from me.

"Don't," she murmurs.

"What?" He looks confused but only briefly. "Oh, you were apologising? For what? We have nothing to be ashamed of."

He slides his hands over her shoulders, his thumbs working away some illusive knot that makes her eyes flutter shut.

"If he wants to listen in, that's his own fault, not ours," he says in a low voice, his eyes still on mine. "And if you want to beg for more or scream your appreciation, you should do without feeling guilty."

I bite my tongue.

"He always knows he's more than welcome to join us..."

I shudder. But it's not as if the thought hasn't already crossed my mind.


	3. Chapter 3

I'll be honest, I have no idea where this is all headed. I'm just having too much fun writing twisted little scenes between all three characters. I might be disturbed, but it seems some of you out there are as disturbed as I am, so I hope you're all enjoying this.

WARNING: Voyeurism, general smuttiness and Salvatore-on-Salvatore action. Oh this is all getting rather messy.

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing but my ideas.

Enjoy x (Oh, because there is only so many times I can use 'she/her' & 'he/his', I finally used names. I'm sure it was obvious all along anyway.)

* * *

**Chapter 3**

I lie on the couch once again, but this time there is no noises from above. Only those from the hallway as the front door opens and closes and I hear her rustling bags and clinking keys.

"Hello?"

I decide to keep my mouth shut as I listen to her footsteps pause behind me.

"I know you're there."

I turn my head and see her, hand on hips, eyebrows raised.

"Can I help you?"

She pouts and steps towards me. "Depends."

I swing my legs off the couch to make room for her. She flops back against the cushions and stretches. I can't help but notice how her shirt creeps up exposing the landscape of her stomach. She smirks. Caught red-handed.

"Are you coming tonight?"

I shrug.

"C'mon. It'll be fun."

"For you two maybe."

"There's always room for one more." Her fingers graze against my arm. Her eyes bore into mine as she inches closer, her shirt riding up even further.

It would be so easy to lean over and capture her lips once again, to run my hand over her stomach, under her shirt, cup her breasts, make her moan softly, just like I remember.

But I've always preferred the hard way. So I pull my arm out of her reach and stand, turning my back to her. I can feel her glare as I walk away.

* * *

I tug open drawer after drawer, trying to remember where I might have hidden a stash so secret, it's like I've compelled myself to forget where it is. Drink, whether it's alcohol or it's more gluttonous and thicker companion, seems to be running low these days. I pull open a final drawer and stick my hand in, feeling blindly from cool glass. I come up triumph and without even bothering to find a glass, take a long swig.

It's going to be a long night, and it's barely even begun. As I stomped away from her earlier, she moved quick as a flash to pick up her latest purchases, making a point of walking ahead of me on the stairs, pretending not to notice me as she fished around for something in the pink striped bag. Black lace grazed her wrists as she sighed in faux frustration. It was enough though. And in the comfort of the shower, I closed my eyes and imagined pulling the lace away from her skin with my teeth.

Despite my best intentions, I couldn't help myself be coerced into tonight's endeavours. Free alcohol will do that. The chance to wear a shirt and tie, not so much, but the thought of her wearing her usual fancy get up was enough to sway me. The thought of watching him whisper sweet nothings in her ear, not so much, but the thought that at some point he would probably whisper them in mine, strangely, was enough to sway me.

Another gulp and I'm ready.

I make my way downstairs, for all intents and purposes to make an effort, to be on time, to be courteous, polite and, despite my inner turmoil, to ignore any snide comments he might make. I will rise above it. But it's hard to rise against anything, when there's no-one there to provoke you; the lounge is empty.

I'm just about to drop to the couch and wait it out, when I hear murmurs above. _Not again_. But my ears soon prick up in earnest.

"Damon..._"_

I almost pinch myself.

Her voice echoes down towards me once again. More urgent this time.

Before I can either consider if this is some kind of trap, I'm hurrying up the stairs, bursting through his door and coming to a stand still in his bedroom. The bathroom door is ajar and I can see wisps of steam curling around the doorframe as she showers. I take a step towards the door as she whimpers once more.

I can smell her shampoo, an intoxicating scent of coconut that makes me feel light-headed. And as I reach the doorway, I can almost make her out in the steam, her back to me as she tips her head back and rinses foam from her hair. She flips it to the right and squeezes excess water from the thick strands.

My breath catches in the back of my throat as I suddenly see the marks on her back, still red, raw, waiting to heal. They run from her shoulder blades and only stop just before the curve of her ass.

"Sometimes, I just can't help myself."

I freeze.

He's behind me, his mouth close to my ear. I swallow hard as I watch her glide her hands down her sides, her eyes closed as her fingers dip between her legs.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" he murmurs, his breath tickling the shell of my ear. "I just can't tear my eyes away from her..."

I can feel a finger making it's way up my arm.

"And it seems you can't either. I mean, you're always looking. Looking but not touching, right? But touching," his finger pauses at my shoulder and then starts to descend. "Touching is _so_ good..."

Elena's head rolls back, a moan floating from her lips. With one hand she grips the shower shelf, supporting herself as she moves her fingers in a slow circular motion.

"Although," he continues. "Sometimes it hurts to touch. And sometimes, you want to touch to hurt."

His teeth graze against my earlobe and my eyes instinctively close. It takes all of my strength to stop myself from letting go of the moan that's building in the back of my throat.

"And she... well, she loves to be hurt. But you already knew that didn't you? I mean, all those nights together... Surely at some point, making sweet love got a bit boring? You guys had to spice it up? What did you do, brother, did you bite her? Did she beg you? Did she dig her claws in to you as you drank from her? I mean, boy, if that wouldn't get you off, what would?"

I swallow thickly. Somewhere in the back of my mind I wonder if she divulged everything that happened when he was gone. Or were his statements just wild stabs in the dark that just happened to hit the truth? Despite playing me for a fool, part of me still has faith in her. Foolish, yes. But I like to think there's a little humanity left inside of her.

"Why don't you drink from her now, brother?"

I snap back to here and now. Elena is turning towards us, her eyes still closed as she leans back against the wall, water cascading over her breasts, her stomach, down towards her hand that continues to move incessantly.

"She's so close... You can smell her, you know how close she is." I suddenly notice his hand is grasping mine, pressing it against my thigh, his fingers curling over mine. His mouth, his hot, wet mouth is almost pressed against my neck.

"I can smell her..." I'm surprised at myself.

I feel his lips form a smirk against my skin, and for a fleeting moment I wonder what it would be like to be pressed between them both, to feel both their mouths on me, to feel four hands touch and caress me, rather than just two. Rather than just my own.

And then Elena screams and my head starts to spin and it's all he can do to keep me upright as he grasps my chin with one hand, twisting my mouth to his.


	4. Chapter 4

I am currently re-watching Seasons 1-3 and every Stefan/Damon scene is making my head explode with ideas. But I am also a complete sucker for anything Delena, so hopefully this is a perfect mix of the two. I like to cater to all tastes. However, you should probably be aware that I love to tease. And I love a slow burn even more.

**WARNINGS:** Oh we got slash, we got incest, we got good ol' fashion smuttiness.

**DISCLAIMER:** I own nothing except my sordid thoughts.

Enjoy x

* * *

**Chapter 4**

I slump against the cold bricks and wipe my mouth. Usually it's blood that I have to wipe away, not my own brother's saliva. I can feel the wetness on the back of my hand. The expected disgust and shame make their way through my mind. Followed by something equally disturbing: a swell of heat that makes my skin burn. I want to wipe his saliva off my mouth again.

I want to feel his mouth on mine again. And again. And again.

Just mere seconds ago I could have done just that. I could have stayed, pressed agains the wall, my eyes on her as she stared at us both, his mouth on mine as I clung to him in desperation. My mind was racing as I tried to take in everything – his hands gripping mine as he forced me to concentrate on him and not her, her eyes begging for me not to look away as she walked silently towards us, water droplets trickling from her hair to her breasts to the wet curls between her legs.

In that moment, I could have had it all.

But my conscience, my damn conscience, kicked in. I pushed him away. I fled.

Was it a one-time offer that I chickened out of? I mean hell, I've been to kinky-town and back. More than once. But everyone has their limits. And perhaps this is mine. Or is it? I mean, that burning feeling in the pit of my stomach is still there.

Inside, I can hear their murmurings.

"_You pushed him too far."_

"_He wanted it."_

"_It was too much."_

"_I could feel he wanted it."_

"_You didn't see his face... He was terrified."_

"_He's done far worse."_

"_You're his brother."_

"_He wanted it."_

I listen to them make their way downstairs, towards the door next to where I'm contemplating fight or flight.

"Are you ready to go?" He stares at me, his eyes too dark for me to read. Elena leans against him, curling a stray strand of her hair around her finger, her eyes strangely pleading with me.

I nod.

As we walk towards the car, his hand brushes against mine. I flinch but as his finger curls around mine, I don't pull away. And out of the corner of my eye I spy a small smile playing on his lips.

* * *

I place my empty glass on the tray and immediately swipe my fifth. Titling my head back, I down half of it and then set about studying the room. A flash of dark hair catches my eye and I watch entranced as Elena laughs coyly and sweeps her hair over one shoulder. I can't help but remember the times she looked over her shoulder at me, my hands brushing her hair out of her face as I pushed into her over and over again. I remember how her eyes used to flutter shut as she came, her mouth the perfect O as I squeezed her ass with one hand and pressed my fingers against her clit with the other.

"Y'know, you're just so damn obvious."

He leans closer to me, his mouth once again so close to my ear that my skin starts to tingle.

"We all know that she is the most beautiful girl in the room, but do you see anyone else staring at her like a man possessed? There are furtive glances, the casual eyes to ass, tits, legs, whatever takes their fancy, but it's all over within a matter of seconds. You on the other hand, just can't take your eyes off her. Wasn't earlier enough? I mean," his voice drops to barely a whisper. "I had you against the wall and yet I still didn't have your full attention."

He chuckles. I feel my cheeks flush.

"If you want her that much... Have her."

I turn to look at him, not quite believing what I'm hearing.

"Isn't that what you want?"

My mouth is dry as I try to think of an answer that isn't as bold as fuck yes.

"Go on. Have her. Take her upstairs, fuck her in the bathroom. Make her scream your name instead of mine."

"Why?" I manage to squeak.

He shrugs. "Y'know she still thinks of you. She said your name once. Whimpered it, in fact."

I shiver. I can't tell if he's playing me again, tormenting me until I take the plunge and then pull the rug from under my feet so he can howl in my face and use my own stupidity against me.

"Why?" I ask again.

"Oh god knows. I was there, she had me. But I'm not enough. And you'll never be enough. But together?" He grins. "Together, we are something else."

"What about earlier?"

"Earlier was earlier."

"And the other day. Your comment."

"You know it's true."

"And all those other times?"

"You're just a dream to wind up."

I'm being fed a line. I know it. And he knows that I know it. But Elena is making her way towards us and all I can think about it is if his earlier offer still stands.

She slides between us, pressing her back against him, her dark rimmed eyes gazing up at me.

"So, what'll it be?"

* * *

I push her against the bathroom door, my hands grabbing fistfuls of hair as I tilt her head backwards to claim her throat. She plucks open the buttons on my shirt and I shiver as I feel her hands on my skin once again. It feels like only yesterday since we were last like this, desperate and needy.

Her hands are at my belt buckle and I hiss against her neck as they slip inside and caress my already aching length. I can't wait any more and I spin her around, pushing her over the sink, her eyes glued to mine through the mirror as I push her dress up until I can see the lace that I last saw peeking from a shopping bag. My need for speed suddenly wanes and I sink to my knees instead. Trailing my fingers up the back of her legs, I lean forward and peel back her panties with my teeth, almost passing out as her scent hits me. I can see her slickness, but I don't touch. Cocking my head to one side, I listen to her whine softly as my fingers reach the curve of her ass. I lean forward and blow gently, grinning as she flinches, thrusting her hips back at me.

I stand and watch her reflection as I unzip my pants and release my cock. Her eyes drop to my crotch for a second and then flick back to mine. Gripping her hips, I sink into her for the first time in far too long. I can feel her clinging to me, pulling me in and it takes all my strength not to cum. Instead I lean forward and gently kiss her back, running my tongue over the now faded scars that are only visible through my memory.

"Bite me..."

I nip.

"Harder."

I grunt obligingly.

"Damon..."

I sink into her harder, faster, my teeth digging into her flesh as I explode.

Her soft whimper brings me back.

And as I raise my head, I see his eyes glowing from the corner of the room.


End file.
